A Dream of a Choice
by EsmeAmelia
Summary: Han dreams that he has a chance to go back in time and make things right - but that chance comes with a terrible price.


AN: Everybody knows I don't own Star Wars. This idea just sprang into my head . . . I seem to have a thing for Han and Ben angst.

"A Dream of a Choice"

By EsmeAmelia

How did Han get here?

He had been standing at the window, watching the large, puffy snowflakes blow over the Naboo night for . . . how long? And where was he before that? He pressed his hand against the cold glass, as if testing to see if it was real. _What_ was he doing before he got here? Why couldn't he remember?

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Han's stomach dropped. Suddenly his wife was next to him, gazing out at the falling snow just as he had been. Not just his wife . . . but his wife of nearly thirty years ago: hair brown, face unlined, eyes untainted by the tragedy of losing a child.

"Han?" she pressed. "Are you okay?"

Han blinked at her several times, vaguely wondering if she was a hallucination. "What . . . what's goin' on?"

Leia just smiled at him as if he were telling some inside joke. "Are you already drunk?" She rose on her tiptoes so she could kiss his forehead. "Come on, let's open the champagne."

His insides suddenly went cold as Leia sauntered over to a caf table where a Nubian champagne bottle and two glasses sat. Champagne. Snow. Naboo. Leia wearing the low-cut blue dress Han had gotten her, her feet bare as they brushed the carpet.

It was the night Ben was conceived.

"What the hell's goin' ON?" he shouted, though Leia seemed not to notice as she popped open the bottle and started pouring the champagne into one of the glasses, her back to him. "How'd I get here?"

" _Good. You've figured out where you are."_

A dark, sinister voice was whispering in his mind. "What?" he screamed, though Leia still seemed not to notice. "Who the fuck are you?"

" _That isn't important,"_ the voice hissed. _"What is important is that you have a chance to fix things."_

"Fix things? What do you mean?"

" _What do you THINK? You know what night this is, so you can fix things now."_

It was as if Han had swallowed a rock. Leia was still pouring the champagne, but maybe it was because time had slowed down so he could contemplate fixing things.

Fixing things so that Ben would never be born . . .

His breath suddenly accelerated into pants. "No . . . no . . . I can't . . ."

" _Think about it,"_ said the voice. _"The Jedi, your family, the entire galaxy. You can save them all right now."_

"You're tellin' me to stop my _son_ from ever bein' born?" Han growled.

" _He is not your son yet,"_ said the voice. _"He doesn't even exist."_

"Yes he _does!"_

" _Not in this time. You can stop it."_

"NO!" Han covered his ears as if that would stop the voice even though he was hearing it inside his head. "I ain't playin' this sick game! Whoever you are, LEAVE ME ALONE!"

" _Are you incapable of seeing the bigger picture? Are you going to sacrifice all the lives Kylo Ren took?"_

"That's NOT HIS NAME!"

" _Then you are still in denial."_

Han's hands were starting to shake. "No . . . no . . . I can't do it . . . I _won't."_

" _Then you doom the galaxy and condemn millions of innocent lives to death."_

Leia of the past still had her back to him, blissfully unaware of the horrors that would stem from this moment.

" _How do you live with yourself?"_ the voice whispered. _"Knowing you are responsible for everything? Now you have a chance to fix it and you are too cowardly to do what needs to be done!"_

By now Han was close to hyperventilating. "Look . . . if I could give _my_ life to save the galaxy, I'd do it, but you're tellin' me to give my _son's_ life!"

" _And what's the difference?"_ The voice sounded like it was relishing in Han's pain. _"It is still one life being given for the sake of countless others. Isn't one life worth the galaxy?"_

Luke would say yes, sometimes one life _does_ have to be sacrificed for the good of many. It was what the Jedi were all about, after all – sacrifice. If one life had to be sacrificed to save many, it didn't matter whose life it was.

But what if _Luke_ were the one asked to sacrifice his child?

Not just his child's life, but his child's very _existence?_

Luke had hidden Rey away somewhere before he disappeared in a desperate attempt to protect her from her cousin and the First Order and Snoke and whatever else might be after her. Even Han didn't know where she was – for all he knew Luke was actually hiding away with her – but even if Luke had essentially abandoned his daughter, would he ever sacrifice her for the galaxy?

Maybe he would . . .

" _Go on. You can change everything right here."_

Tears were streaming down Han's face as a little boy danced in his mind, his hands in his father's and his feet balanced on his father's big boots. He remembered shaking Ben's little hand in his own, kissing his head, listening to his little giggle.

" _Even the most evil beings in the galaxy started as innocent children, and he was no exception."_

The voice was right, Han of course knew that, but he couldn't stop himself from remembering the little boy kissing his father's nose, chasing seabirds at the Naboo beach, swinging his legs as he licked an ice cream cone, pointing out all the pictures he saw in the clouds, riding on his father's shoulders as they pretended they were rider and taun-taun on Hoth. The things any normal child would do.

Other memories came too – Ben rushing to his parents' bed nearly every night in a vain attempt to escape his chronic nightmares, casually commenting on something his father had been thinking almost as if he were unaware that it wasn't ordinary to read minds, coming home from school in tears because of a fight with another student. He remembered a teenager who often seemed to be bothered by something but wouldn't tell his parents what.

And he remembered a man.

A man that some people probably doubted even _was_ a man, given that the mask was all he ever showed. A man whose true name had long been forgotten by the galaxy, though Han could never forget it.

A man who was a murderer.

Han felt himself sinking to his knees as if all the energy had been suddenly knocked out of him. "I . . . can't . . . do . . . this . . ." He almost thought he could see the little boy through his tears and hear his little bare feet pattering across the floor as he ran up to his daddy.

" _You are selfish. Dooming the galaxy for a child."_

"He's _my_ child."

" _Everyone is someone's child. What makes yours so special?"_

Han had no answer. Maybe there _was_ no good answer. There were trillions of fathers and sons in the galaxy and he and Ben had no special entitlement among them.

And some of those fathers and sons were doubtless killed because of Ben.

He wanted to slam his hand into the floor – maybe that would return him to his own time when all of this was _already done_ and there was no way to change it.

" _This is the only way. Your son MUST be stopped."_

Han again clamped his hands over his ears as if that would silence his mind. "How do you know the future will be better if he doesn't exist?" he gasped out. "How do you know Snoke won't just seduce someone _else_ to do his dirty work?"

" _How do you know he will?"_

More tears flowed as hundreds of memories kept dancing in his head. "Go AWAY!"

" _Make your choice. Save your son or save the galaxy. You can't save both."_

"Han?"

Suddenly Han was on his feet again and there was Leia offering him a glass of champagne, just like that night so many years ago. If she noticed the tears still streaming down his face, she gave no indication that she did. "Come on, Han, let's toast this night."

She was smiling at him as she pressed the glass into his hand, blissfully unaware of the future, just like Han had been the first time this had happened. His glass clinked against hers seemingly without him consciously deciding to do so.

" _Now. Save the galaxy now."_

Han downed the spicy champagne and it burned his throat. Leia of the past laughed, seeming to mistake his sudden flinch as only a reaction to the drink and nothing else. "Come on Han, I know you've had stronger stuff before."

He breathed heavily, staring into his wife's deep brown eyes. "Leia, I . . . "

" _Go on, make up any excuse you can and the galaxy will be safe."_

Any excuse. He wasn't feeling well, he was too tired for sex, he ate something that disagreed with him – any excuse would erase Ben from existence. In fact, he _wasn't_ feeling well – his head was spinning and his stomach felt ready to regurgitate the wine. "Leia . . ."

" _Do it!"_

For a second Han's mouth opened to utter the words _No, not tonight_ and murder his son – no, worse than murder. His chest tightened up, his mind pressing his son's bright eyes into his memory . . . he would be the only one to ever have that memory of the child who never came to be . . .

But then he grabbed his wife's face and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

Leia threw her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss further and further, her champagne spilling on his shirt as he remembered from the first time this night happened.

" _What are you doing?"_

Han refused to acknowledge the voice.

. . .

Han woke up drenched in sweat, unable to move for what felt like several moments, gasping for air as he opened his eyes to the familiar shadows of his cabin. As the seconds passed and he regained movement in his body, he slowly inhaled the comforting dusty smell of his blankets.

It was a dream.

The Jedi were still dead, the First Order was still a threat, Ben was still lost.

But Ben was alive somewhere. No cruel voice was trying to wipe him from existence.

A long sigh emitted from his mouth as he untangled the blankets around his legs. He shouldn't be relieved . . . he _shouldn't_ , but no matter what future Ben's birth had caused . . . he was still Ben. Still his son.

Still his son . . .

He sank his head back into the pillow, trying to banish all thoughts of the dream from his head, but just when he was on the edge of sleep, he thought he heard something in his mind.

" _You made your choice."_

THE END


End file.
